


Food for Thought

by girlintheglen



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 20:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14120118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen





	Food for Thought

 

 

It didn't appear to be a location for someone's favorite restaurant, but Napoleon was willing to go along with the trek to someplace called Dilly's Diner, just to humor his recently wounded partner.

"Illya, are you sure that knock on the head didn't mess with your ability to remember _where you last ate the meal_ you've been talking about?" 

The alley was strewn with trash, a few old cars and the signs of a long neglected neighborhood.Illya wondered about it when he first stumbled onto the diner, but having met the people here (as well as seeing it in daylight), he knew it wasn't quite as bad as the nighttime made it appear.

"I promise you, my ability to navigate is firmly intact.' Suddenly a small sign could be seen above a door.

"Here we are." Illya opened the door and motioned for Napoleon to step inside ahead of him.They walked through a narrow corridor that opened up into the kitchen.

"Hey, I thought you said we were going to eat here, not do the dishes."Napoleon wouldn't have put it past the sneaky Russian to volunteer them both for clean up in exchange for their dinner.

Illya laughed out loud, he had come in the back door on purpose, just to see his friend's reaction.

"I assure you, we won't need to be concerned about working for our food.Sometimes you Americans only look at one aspect of the lives of people you encounter.Everyone and everything has a back door, or an alternate view of things.I stumbled in here one night afterhaving narrowly escaped a THRUSH ambush.Well, they did nick me, but I made it here and Mrs. Ashley took me in, cleaned my wound and fed me.I like to check in on her once in a while."

Napoleon had never heard this story and wondered how long ago his partner had been alone and one the run from THRUSH? As they continued on into the front of the building, Napoleon saw the transformation and starting taking in the aroma of something really wonderful.He was already anticipating his meal as he quizzed Illya about what he'd just heard.

"Why didn't I know about this? You usually tell me about your exploits with our long beaked birdies."Illya pulled out a chair and sat down as Napoleon was speaking.He looked up and indicated to his friend to do the same.

"I assure you, it was a small thing really.You were out of country on some other assignment, I suppose it just slipped my mind."Napoleon doubted it, but decided to not pursue the subject.Illyaobviously wanted to dine in peace, something they both needed on occasion.

Napoleon started to pick up a menu but Illya put his hand on the piece of paper that served the purpose, shaking his head as a woman waved to them.She was probably in her sixties, still attractive in a way unique to women whose beauty was untouched by the usual punishments of age.The maturity was visible, but her features seemed to not care that they were lined in places, or that some grey peeked through the scarf she wore on her head.

Emily Gaye Ashley had come to New York with her husband, the late Gerard Emmett Ashley of Jolliet, Illinois. Her family was originally from Tennessee, but had moved north in search of work; that is where she met her future husband.After the war, the couple decided to seek their fortunes in the city of big dreams, and a quirk of fate thrust them into the food business; they found themselves owners of this little diner and named it after their favorite ice cream confection: the Dairy Queen Dilly Bar. 

Illya recited this history to Napoleon, relishing the details and anticipating the meal he knew was on its way.He generally had the same thing, and Emily Ashley knew to put in his order as soon as he came through the door.His lifestyle seemed to dictate that once in a while he was called away before he could finish. 

"Here you go Illya.And who's your friend?"Emily set down a platterof steaming hot fried chicken, a whole bird cut into perfect pieces.A young boy (Emily's grandson Emmett, he had been informed), had a tray holding a bowl full of gravy, a platter of biscuits and another bowl with crunchy fried okra.Another tray arrived, carried by a girl who lived in the neighborhood and worked when she was needed.It had a bowl with cole slaw, as well as a plate of ripe, thickly sliced tomatoes.

"This…' Illya nodded towards Napoleon,"is my friend Napoleon."

Emily held out her hand to the handsome young man.

"Emily Gaye Ashley, pleased to meet you Napoleon."Her charm was contagious, and Napoleon felt himself grinning like a love struck boy, enchanted by the lilt of her drawl.

"The pleasure is mine.What delicious food have you brought us?"

She recited the various items, laughing at the reaction when she mentioned the okra.It wasn't the most popular vegetable in the market, but the way she prepared it, well… it was a favorite of practically everyone who ate in her diner.

The two hungry men filled their plates and dug into their meals, relishing every bite as they sampled first one thing and then another.The hot biscuits were slathered in butter and then a dollop of gravy, just for good measure.Also on the table was homemade apple jelly and sweet tea.The chicken crunched with the first bite, the skin fried to a perfect crisp coating that made Illya swell with satisfaction. 

Napoleon took one piece of the okra, unsure of the unfamiliar vegetable.   "Wow, this is really good." He had never had anything like it before.

"Everything is good, my friend.This diner is like Shangri-la, full of delights and never ending pleasure."Only Illya could make food sound like eternity's gift of life.  At the end of their meal the two sat with looks of utter contentment on their faces.Only one thing could make it better.

"Oh, this is going to make you think you have died and gone to heaven."Illya's face almost glowed, he was so happy.

Emily came towards them with two big bowls, setting them down to the delight and amazement of Illya and Napoleon, respectively.

"I don't know if I can eat anything else.What is this?"Emily set a bowl in front of each of the men.

"This, Napoleon, is blackberry cobbler.It's my momma's recipe, and her mother's before her.You don't come from the South and not know how to make a cobbler.Homemade ice cream is what's melting' all around it, so you better dig in."

Illya took Emily's hand, grasping it as he deftly left a tip that would help pay the rent here.He knew she had a good business, but since Gerard's passing it was a struggle at times to keep things going.

She felt the crisp bill in her palm, accepted it with grace and gratitude.Illya was like a son in search of his mother, and she was happy to do what she could to make him feel like a part of her family.It seemed that Napoleon was now a part as well.Just as it should be she reckoned.

The cobbler and ice cream put them both over the top.It was good they had walked here because the trip back would at least melt away a few calories, not to mention help each of them to breath again.

They exited through the front door, glad to have a well lit pathway back to Illya's apartment.They didn't talk, just walked and considered the abundance of the meal, and the charming Emily Gaye Ashley.


End file.
